


Crayons and Constellations

by howelllesters



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Artist Dan, Fluff, Food mentions, M/M, Math Major Phil, so stay safe, undertones of perfectionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-10-15 10:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10554776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howelllesters/pseuds/howelllesters
Summary: “I’m the shy, quiet art major in our painting class and you’re the insane math major who’s always raving on about how the universe is full of dimensions that 3D can’t capture and how beautiful that is" AU. Or, the one where Phil takes Dan stargazing, and shows him the beauty in not knowing.





	

“Morning, Dan.”

Dan glanced up as his tutor entered the room and greeted him with his usual smile. He watched as the the man set his cup of coffee on the desk at the front, then opened up his laptop and started tapping away at his keys, replying to his overnight emails.

This was a routine Dan had been following for several months now, and it pleased him that things weren’t changing. After enjoying his first semester module with this tutor probably more than most, he’d opted into the man’s second semester art module too, still held first thing on a Friday morning just like it had been previously. Dan arrived at the art room before anyone else, tutor included, and for fifteen minutes or so, they’d sit there in a comfortable silence. Sometimes his tutor would put some music on, other times Dan would ask for his advice on one piece of work or another, but for the most part, they sat there peacefully, Dan arranging his art supplies, soothed by the sounds of the keyboard.

Art had always been the love of Dan’s life. It was how he’d escaped from all of his worries at school, and going on to pursue a Fine Art degree at university had been a decision that needed no thought. He was still only in his first year, but Dan couldn’t see anything but producing art and perhaps branching out into gallery curating in his future. He was so content losing himself in the world of his imagination, which was the only reason he was in university at quarter to nine every Friday.

There were very few things Dan loved more than sleep, but art was one of them.

His usual medium was pencil, filling sketchbook upon sketchbook with sketches and portraits, until he could pick up his trusty 2B without even thinking and create a piece of blinding realism. For that reason, subsidiary modules at university had seemed like a good opportunity to try something new and expand his art skills. Most of his weeks were spent drowning in art theory with a sprinkle of art history for good measure, but this module was his escape; painting.

The vibrant pieces Dan produced in this class were unlike anything he’d really experimented with before, and for someone who lived his life in such a calm, orderly way, Dan revelled in the thrill of picking up a paintbrush and making bold strokes of colour on a blank canvas. He wasn’t the best - well, he was the best in the class by far, but by his own standards and experiences - but that wasn’t what mattered here.

Today was the first day of the new module, and Dan was a little apprehensive. He’d only just gotten used to his old classmates, and now everything was switching round. He doubted many of them would return, because subsidiaries were for all schools across the university, and unlike Dan, most students used them as a chance to branch out from their own path of study, not delve deeper.

“Is anyone sat here?” someone suddenly asked him, and Dan leapt a foot into the air at the sudden intrusion on his thoughts.

“No, no, go for it,” Dan said, motioning to the empty easel next to him. As he looked around, Dan realised the room had filled up while he’d been daydreaming, and the spot next to him was one of the only spares left.

The boy who had taken it was currently sat grinning at Dan, bright blue eyes peering at him unblinkingly to the point where it was almost unnerving. Dan returned the smile, which was apparently what he’d been waiting for, as he then started getting on with unpacking his stuff. Dan watched him with outward curiosity, the way his fluffy black hair constantly flew around as he kept diving into his bag to unpack more.

Dan tended to sit at his easel with just his phone and paints, the palette he’d enjoyed spending a semester messy-ing up just waiting to be used again. This was how he always worked, although he was still adjusting to having paints lined up alongside him as opposed to pencils in various grades. It was a much more colourful workspace, but very fun.

This boy… well, he had everything. A bottle of water, which Dan immediately wanted to confiscate, no less than three electronic devices, a pencilcase bursting at the seams with a protractor and compass bulging out of it but no visible pen or even pencil in sight, a cereal bar - the list went on. Sure, Dan was a little protective of his materials and brought his own paint to class, even though it was provided for subsidiary classes, but at least it _made sense_ to bring paint to a painting class. Who needed even one set square for this, let alone five?

“Alright, listen up,” their tutor said, and Dan reluctantly turned to face him. He was half-mystified, half-horrified by the ball of energy that had settled next to him, and he sort of didn’t want to do anything but watch this boy instead.

Still, this was Dan’s favourite tutor, and he had a lot of time for him. The man was one of very few who understood just how difficult it was for Dan to do something _new_ with his art. He’d spent years and years perfecting his style, and now anything less than perfect made Dan want to scream. It was something he’d struggled with a lot at the beginning of last semester, putting brush to canvas and not immediately creating what he saw in his head. His tutor had never been anything less than one hundred per cent supportive of him though, and slowly Dan was finding it easier to loosen up.

“Welcome to Painting 102, the highly original name I thought up when submitting my module outline five minutes before the deadline last semester,” he grinned, and Dan smiled. Yep, he’d definitely made the right choice to pick this class after taking Painting 101. “This is only a five credit module, so I don’t want any of you to take it too seriously. I want Friday mornings to be the part of your timetable you look forward to.”

There was a ripple of approval through the dozen or so students in the class, and Dan smiled.

“The aim of this module is to stretch you. Some of you will already be way out of your comfort zone by choosing an Art module at all. Some of you might need coaxing out of it a little more,” he continued, and Dan didn’t miss the way his gaze slid over him. “To pass this module, I want you to show me that you’re challenging yourselves. I want you to have fun with art, with painting in particular, and I want the work you produce to show me that you’ve done something _different_.

“That doesn’t mean this is an easy module. In some ways, doing something different is more difficult than something you already know you can do. However, it does mean there’s no pressure for the non-artists among us to compete with those who do this day in, day out. Art is not a competition, and with this approach, we all have different goals, so you really cannot compare.

“Essentially, what I’m saying is, to achieve a perfect score in this class, you don’t need to aim for perfect. In fact, you’ll probably be avoiding it.”

He took a moment to let everyone absorb that information, but it seemed to have gone down very well. Dan chanced a glance over at the intriguing boy to his side, and found he’d visibly relaxed at the words, a wide grin spreading across his face. It was a little disconcerting how nice Dan found his smile to look at, and he was grateful that his attention was snapped back to his tutor at the mention of his name.

“How are we doing for the pretentious speeches so far, Dan?”

Dan properly smiled this time, and gave his tutor a silent thumbs up. For all his laidback attitude, their tutor was a fan of giving long, impassioned speeches about art, to the extent that it had become a running joke. Dan was pleased it was something he hadn’t given up on, and he also appreciated that the tutor had called his attention to it. Dan had been slightly worried he wouldn’t want to see him for a second module, but it seemed those worries were foolish, like most of Dan’s worries seemed to be.

“Right, let’s crack on then shall we? Today’s task is just to see what you class as being out of your comfort zone. I want you to each come up with a piece that has challenged you. At the end of today, I’ll be pairing you up, and next week I want you to come back having worked together to explore exactly what that is.

“For now, you are welcome to either experiment, or if you need some inspiration, I’ve set up a subject just here, made up of junk I found in the Art Department’s lost and found box. I call it, The Student Struggle,” he finished with a flourish.

The class peered around their easels to get a good look at the arrangement, and many laughed. There was an empty wine bottle on its side, a pile of textbooks, some food wrappers, a couple of art supplies, and a university sports scarf draped artfully across it all.

“Hey, that’s my scarf!” someone called out, and the laughter grew louder.

“Would it be okay if we borrowed it for this lesson, Mr Kendall?” their tutor asked, looking amused, and received a nod in response.

“Of course. Cheers for finding it!”

Their exchange seemed to signal the beginning of the task, and people started to get to work, gathering materials or taking a moment to decide what to work on. Dan looked down at his tools and chewed his lip, trying to figure out what he should do.

Technically, any painting was still out of his comfort zone; outside of these seminars, he spent most of his time working in pencil or writing essays, so it wasn’t like he’d had much practice with paint. Still, he had grown more used to it, and yet Dan did a still life study nearly every other day, so copying what was in front of him didn’t seem very challenging either.

“What are you going to do?” the boy next to him hissed, and Dan flinched in surprise, then turned to face him.

“I don’t know,” Dan said softly, pulling a face. “What about you?”

“I think not using a ruler counts as out of my comfort zone,” the boy chuckled. “I study Maths, so this is all very new. How about you?”

“Well, I study Art,” Dan said sheepishly, but the boy just laughed.

“Should have guessed,” he said, motioning to Dan’s selection of supplies. “I’m Phil, by the way.”

“Dan,” he responded with a smile. The boy wasn’t as overwhelming when he wasn’t going at a hundred miles an hour.

“What are we up to here then?” their tutor asked, sidling over to in between the boys. “Talk to me about your projects.”

“Think I’m just going to try drawing that lot,” Phil said, pointing to the display in front of him with his pencil. “I’m more of a diagram man, so any artwork is a challenge. How am I meant to know the proportions?”

Both Dan and the tutor laughed at Phil’s horrified voice, and their tutor nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. How about you, Dan?”

Dan shrugged. Honestly, he was excited for this module, but it was also kind of _his worst nightmare_? Everything about Dan’s life was ordered, perfect, and his art was no different.

“How about I make a suggestion?” his tutor asked, and Dan nodded, figuring a bit of advice wouldn’t hurt. “Okay, give me your brushes.”

Dan handed across his six or seven brushes, a little confused. He didn’t bring his entire brush collection to each class, mostly because he didn’t need them, so just tended to bring his fine brushes to get that level of detail in, and a couple of thicker ones to fill in the canvas where needed. His system worked quite well, and he had surprised himself at how quickly he’d adapted to using a thin brush instead of a pencil.

“Right then,” his tutor said, rifling through them, and then clasping every single thin brush in one hand, and handing back two thick brushes to Dan. “I want you to paint the still life, like Phil, but only with these brushes.”

Dan was quite certain he actually paled as he took back the thick brushes.

“How?” he managed, already picturing how ugly his work would look, a mess of thick brush strokes. It would probably look like a child’s piece, something he could have created at nursery with his fingers.

“That’s for you to figure out,” his tutor winked, and then waved the brushes at Dan. “You can have these back at the end of today.”

With that, he walked away, and Dan just peered at his two paintbrushes, hesitant to do anything with them but fill in a background like he normally would. Even that would be one of his last actions though, so he was already feeling out of his depth.

“Surely it’s not that bad?” Phil laughed, having watched the exchange and noting Dan’s reluctant expression.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dan admitted, rolling the two brushes around between his fingers.

“Just have fun,” Phil said gently. “It’s what I’m doing.”

Dan watched as he picked up a 6B - far too soft for the initial outline, but Dan wasn’t going to say anything - and then started drawing lines. Soon enough, the paper was covered in grey smudges, as well as the side of Phil’s hand and some of his nose, but he continued to grin at Dan every so often, so he clearly didn’t care.

Taking a deep breath, Dan tried to channel the same thing. _Just have fun_. He could do that. He loved art. Art _was_ fun. He could have fun with this.

The scarf in front of him was blue and maroon, so Dan put some blue paint on his palette, mixed it with a bit of black to get the right shade, and then dipped his huge paintbrush in the blob of colour and lifted it to the canvas. By the time the brush touched the canvas, Dan’s eyes were nearly closed, but as he made his first stroke, a thick line of blue showing where he’d been, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

This wasn’t so bad. He could do this.

Going back for more paint, Dan made another bold line. Maybe his canvas would just look like a mess of lines and shapes by the time he was done, but if the encouraging smiles he was getting from both his tutor and Phil were anything to go by, that might not be a bad thing.

—

Dan got paired with Phil for next week’s project, of course. That was how Dan’s luck went, and that was why he was spending his Friday afternoon in Phil’s bedroom, feeling very uncomfortable in a house full of other third-years, discussing two canvases home to a heap of smudges, one varying shades of grey, having run out of time before Phil could even get started on painting it, the other a cacophony of colour courtesy of Dan’s thick brushes.

“So who wants to go first?” Phil beamed.

“After you,” Dan said politely, twisting his hands together.

Phil was back in tornado form, a ball of energy who had suggested they meet that very afternoon to get a headstart on the project, ‘in case we want to add any more to it!’

Never one for confrontation, Dan had just agreed, despite the fact he actually had planned to start an essay that afternoon. Still, if Phil could spare his valuable time, Dan couldn’t exactly turn round and claim he couldn’t, not when first year didn’t even count.

Looking around Phil’s room, you wouldn’t guess this belonged to a third year, mind. There were posters on every available piece of wall, most of them ripped and dog eared, probably artefacts that had followed Phil around since he was Dan’s age. Stuffed toys littered his bookshelves, at odds with the thick textbooks, and his green and blue duvet clashed horribly with the red blind fixed to his window. Honestly, Dan was dreading having to move out of his fancy student flat and into student housing like this.

Despite it all though, Dan found it a fairly relaxing place to be, and it was impossible not to feel a little happy around Phil, even though he was everything Dan usually avoided in a friend.

“Okay, well,” Phil began, gesturing grandly to his artwork, and making Dan laugh. “Like I said before, any and all artwork is a challenge for me. Seriously. I can’t even draw a circle without my protractor.”

Dan noticed that when Phil laughed or cracked a joke, his tongue poked out from between his teeth, and it was strangely adorable.

“So stepping out of my comfort zone is just, putting pencil to paper.”

“Don’t you enjoy it though?” Dan asked, finally curious enough to open up a little and look at Phil thoughtfully. “Drawing? Don’t you find it relaxing? And then you have a finished product which is nice to look at.”

“Are you kidding?” Phil chuckled. “I cannot stand Art. I just took this module because there was nothing left; it was Painting or Roman Archaelogy, so I just went for the lesser of two evils.”

Phil grinned innocently at Dan, while Dan blinked at him, stunned at the admission.

“But art is so beautiful, all art. Isn’t it nice to feel like you’ve become a part of that?”

“Not really,” Phil said, tilting his head. He sounded apologetic, and Dan wondered just how obvious it was on his face how surprised and disappointed he was with his project partner. “There are things more beautiful.”

“Like what?!” Dan spluttered. A small part of him recognised he was yelling at a near stranger in said stranger’s own home, but he was baffled as to how someone couldn’t take comfort in art, and being surrounded by it, producing it.

“I don’t know, there just are,” Phil attempted weakly.

Dan frowned, and then did the most un-Dan-like thing he had ever done. “Pull your shoes on. We’re going on a field trip.”

—

“I should have guessed,” Phil groaned, as Dan led him through the great oak doors of the local art gallery.

It had nothing on the stunning galleries of London and beyond, places Dan had easily lost entire days to in the past, but it would do. It sufficed for trying to convince Phil that art was worth something, and it could be something he enjoyed, and more importantly, that the entire subject of Art didn’t need to be out of his comfort zone.

“Give it a chance,” Dan implored.

“Okay,” Phil agreed. “You have half an hour, and then we’re going to get something to eat, because I don’t waste a quid on a bus into the city not to at least return having had good food.”

“Agreed,” Dan smiled, and Phil grinned back at him.

“Come on then, dazzle me.”

Dan wasted no time in dragging Phil to his favourite piece in the gallery. As it was small and locally-funded, it housed mostly work by local artists, but Dan didn’t mind that. It was actually something he found incredibly interesting, and most of his first year projects had been dedicated to studying them.

He liked the idea of someone creating art, not for fame or money, but just through passion. Many of these pieces had been hidden in various attics and garden sheds for many years, and the artists probably never imagined them hanging in an art gallery one day.

Dan was, by nature, incredibly shy. He was soft-spoken and reserved, especially in putting across his opinions. Everything in his life was perfectly in place, and the idea of deviating from that usually brought him out in a cold sweat. Being loud and overenthusiastic like Phil wasn’t something that appealed.

Art was his safe place, the thing he understood and was good at, and it was almost at the point where Dan was in danger of being trapped by it, terrified to step outside of the box and do something else because he didn’t know what it was like to not be perfect at something anymore, and that scared him more than he wanted to admit.

That was why his blob paintings with thick brushes were his way of challenging himself - releasing some of that control didn’t come easily to him. How was he supposed to admit that to Phil though?

“Don’t you find this beautiful?” Dan asked, distracted from his own thoughts by the painting they’d stopped in front of.

It was an outdoor scene, set at night in the rolling fields of the countryside not so far away from them. The subjects of the image were at the bottom of the frame, vibrant clothing and their poses telling a story. That wasn’t what interested Dan though; he found himself mesmerised by the sky in this painting, the attention to detail that made him feel like he was there, looking at the million stars above him.

“I mean, sure,” Phil shrugged. “If you’re thinking like an artist. It’s a good piece of art.”

Dan looked at him frustratedly, and then turned to the piece hung next to it, hoping it might elicit some awe from Phil at the magnificence of its colouring, but still nothing.

This went on for the half hour promised, until Dan finally had to admit defeat and started on his way back to the bus stop.

“Hey, you agreed to get food,” Phil said indignantly, catching his wrist before he could get too far.

“Yeah, I said you could go get food after half an hour,” Dan replied, confused.

“And I said ‘we’,” Phil insisted. “Come on. Burgers are on me.”

“Oh no, no I can’t, it’s fine,” Dan said quickly, his cheeks turning scarlet.

“Well I’d like you to.”

Dan stared at Phil for a moment, unsure of what was happening.

“But I’m just your project partner. You don’t need to get food.”

“Right now you’re my project partner, sure,” Phil smirked. “I was hoping once we set foot inside the restaurant, I could call you my date?”

Something was registering in Dan, something very foreign, because it almost sounded like Phil was flirting with him, but no one was interested in Dan. Ever.

“Why?” he asked before he could stop himself, and Phil let out a loud laugh.

“Because I’ve spent all damn day looking at your eyes and the cute face you have to go with them, and enough is enough. You can say no. Or we can go as project partners. It would be nice if we didn’t though,” Phil shrugged, and Dan couldn’t understand how _relaxed_ Phil was about _everything_. He’d asked Dan on a date in the same manner as he’d asked him if he could grab the easel next to him earlier.

If Dan had ever had the courage to ask someone on a date, he would have spent a good three days rehearsing the question, and drawing up a complete list of potential venues, that included both food and non-food options, and within those categories, contingencies for any food intolerances.

Admittedly though, if Dan was going to ask anyone on a date, it would probably be someone like Phil, who was rather painfully out of his league, but was really quite handsome. The jet black hair made his skin look like marble, and his eyes, _his eyes_. Dan thought he could spend an hour just blending colours to try and get them right and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Okay, we can go get food,” Dan said quietly, eventually, and Phil beamed.

“What are we going as?”

“Dates,” Dan mumbled, his cheeks growing even redder, and Phil snickered at the sight, and then softened.

“Hey,” he said, trailing a finger up Dan’s cheek and sweeping some of his fringe back. “Thank you.”

—

Dinner was, to Dan’s intense surprise, a wild success.

Phil was so easy to be around, constantly talking a mile a minute, and filled with so much conversation that he even managed to drag it out of Dan, the younger boy loosening up as the evening wore on, and he found Phil’s company to be better than he’d ever expected.

It seemed strange that they would get along so well, being polar opposites in just about everything. Dan was trying not to even focus on the fact that this was the most spontaneous thing he’d done in a long while, because he was having fun, and he didn’t want his usual worries to claw that away from him.

“Can I show you something?” Phil had asked Dan on the bus home, and giddy on laughter and the beginnings of a real crush starting to form, Dan had nodded eagerly.

That was why Dan now found himself hopping up in surprise as Phil stopped the bus at the local park, grabbing Dan’s hand and walking them past the play area and to the empty playing fields.

“What are we doing?” Dan asked curiously, but Phil just shook his head, throwing his hoodie onto the damp grass and then pulling Dan down to sit next to him on it.

“So the point of this project was to discuss going out of our comfort zones right? And that just means that you don’t produce a piece of artwork that you had full control over, a piece you don’t think meets your standards.”

Dan gaped at him, his jaw dropped at the analysis.

“How did you even know that?” he finally stuttered.

“Dan, I study Maths but my strongest subject was always English, and I can read you like a book.”

Folding his arms, Dan glared at him indignantly. He wasn’t _that_ obvious. Was he?

“What does that have to do with anything anyway?” Dan grumbled, his shock at being caught out overriding the joy from earlier.

With a mischievous giggle, Phil pounced on Dan, sending him toppling backwards to land on the grass with a small thump.

“Right, look up.”

Dan shot Phil a stony look, but obliged anyway, glancing up at a clear sky to find it glittering with stars and a shiny, full moon.

“The stars. Lovely. Very romantic.”

“This isn’t part of the date,” Phil laughed, flinging an arm over to lightly hit Dan’s stomach. “This is back to the project. Because you keep asking what I think is more beautiful than your beloved art, and it’s this. We have no idea what is above us, nor below us. There are endless galaxies up there, and maybe endless possibilities because of that. It’s so incomprehensible, and that’s what I find beautiful.

“Your starry paintings capture what we see right now, but if you let your mind wander to what more is out there, that’s even better. Do you understand?”

“Sort of,” Dan said, squinting at the sky. He got where Phil was coming from, but the conversation was also making him feel very small and overwhelmed in the grand scheme of things. For someone who relished being in control and knowing what he was doing and where he was going, the mysteries of not knowing was a little unsettling.

“So your comfort zone is control, and mine is a lack of it. This semester, you need to loosen up with your art. Make it ugly. Make it pretty. Try and capture what I find beautiful - the infinite stars above us…”

—

“…and Phil needs to focus. Pay attention to the details. The small things. Confine what he sees to the page in front of him.”

Dan smiled up at their tutor, indicating they’d finished, and he commenced applauding them, while Dan and Phil headed back to their easels.

“Excellent, excellent work, you two,” he enthused. “You’ve really understood the task and each other. I’m impressed.”

“We make a great team,” Phil grinned, and Dan shot him a look.

Half an hour later and the class was filing out of the art room, all wrapped up for another Friday.

“Hey, Phil,” Dan said hesitantly from behind him, and Phil turned to him, beaming. “Why did you go to all that effort to make our project so good and to understand me? You could’ve just said out of my comfort zone was using big brushes.”

Phil laughed at that for a good few minutes before composing himself.

“I could’ve, you’re right. But I decided I wanted to take you out the minute I saw your horrified look at my set squares, so now I’ve ticked off food and stargazing. Fancy a coffee later?”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @phansdick as part of the phanfic exchange; I decided it was finally time this thing got posted. I have strayed a little from the original prompt, I hope you still enjoy this fic! <3
> 
> And now, to make it even more incredible, this fic has accompanying artwork from graphitepencilranger?! I am so incredibly lucky. Please go check it out: http://graphitepencilranger.tumblr.com/post/150366631917/artistdan


End file.
